


Under The Table

by immawriteyouthings



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cockblocking Dwalin, Dwalin Is A Softie, Dwarf Courting, Erebor, F/M, Fluff, Humor, In Erebor, Marriage, Pressure to Marry, Reader-Insert, Touching, post-BotFA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-20 23:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6029533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immawriteyouthings/pseuds/immawriteyouthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were going to a ball. A royal ball at that, in glorious, reclaimed Erebor, pride of your people.</p>
<p>Usually, such a thing would be exciting. There would be ale, food, dancing and general merriment - everything a dwarrowdam such as yourself could and should enjoy until you were blue in the face. But this ball in particular was – as the invitation read in bold, firm language - for the sole purpose of finding partners for the heirs to the throne.</p>
<p>...Frankly, you'd rather eat an axe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Based on an <a href="http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/post/125041246156/imagine-dis-and-thorin-planning-a-yearly-ball-in">imagine</a> from <a href="http://imaginexhobbit.tumblr.com/">imaginexhobbit</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my lovely betas, long may you read! :*
> 
> Written for tumblr ages ago, but it remains one of my favorites so I thought it was a good place to start with this here AO3 account. I'll post chapter two soon (it's already on tumblr, if you're curious).
> 
> Originally posted on [tumblr](http://immawriteyouthings.tumblr.com/post/127908753591/under-the-table-pt-1</a>)
> 
> Available in [Russian](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4067737)

 

“This is silly.”

“You won’t think it’s silly when you get to meet the princes!”

“…No, I’m fairly certain I’ll still find it incredibly silly,” you said as you adjusted the ridiculous dress your mother had all but squeezed you into. You tried to take a breath, testing the limits of the fabric, and your bust rose almost scandalously. You managed to fill your lungs about a quarter of the way before you had to give up. “I can’t even _breathe_ in this.”

“That’s not the point,” she slapped your hands away. “I’ve heard they’re handsome and brave and _strong_ and–”

“Careful mother, wouldn’t want father to hear you talk so.”

She pursed her lips, “Come now, it’s only one evening. Don’t tell me we traveled all this way for you to sulk the entire time.”

“No, I told you I’d sulk the entire time weeks ago, before we even left home.”

“…Darling, we’re here. We’re going. And you’re going to enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, it’s a miracle. I’ve completely changed my mind. I am so very excited I could burst,” you said, completely stone-faced.

“You’re of age. It’s not like you didn’t know this sort of thing was coming. You could have married long ago but you didn’t. Remember? That poor lad…,” she shook her head.

“ _Lad_? He was more than a century my senior.”

“He was distinguished!”

“He was older than father.”

“…Once the ball is over you can do whatever you wish.”

“ _Huzzah_ ,” you said dryly. Your mother pouted and turned away, fiddling with her already perfect braids. Your own hair had taken hours ( _you were already going to be late_ ) and was wound up in what your mother insisted was a fashionable and attractive style. You thought you looked like a cinnamon roll. She probably wanted to make you look _good enough to eat_. You shuddered.

Why weren’t these stupid princes married yet? They’d been here for years now, the mountain reclaimed and completely restored long ago. Your mother said that it wasn’t any of your business. They were royals! They could do whatever they wanted! Which, apparently, included throwing extravagant parties with the intent of finding matches for their precious heirs.

Which wasn’t quite working the way they wanted. This was the fifth ball they’d thrown and the two still weren’t hitched. The parties began very exclusive, nobles and the affluent and such, but as the years wore on invitations were far more easy to come by. Particularly for families with young, of-age dwarrow such as your own. The royals of Erebor seemed almost frantic in their search – the latest invitation declared that the princes would wed by the next Durin’s day.

…Which wasn’t exactly far off.

The whole business made you morbidly curious and very, _very_ dubious. What exactly was wrong with them to take so bloody long and require such extreme ends? You pictured a pair of spoiled, uppity (probably hideous) brats, clad in gold and fine fabrics, looking down their noses at those around them, judging them like cattle. Mahal knows there were few who wouldn’t accept a royal’s proposal, so were they just incredibly picky? Or so horrible none would dare risk marriage?

“Are you ready?” your mother stood before you, smiling hugely from beneath what looked to be her entire jewelry collection.

“…Let’s just get this over with,” you sighed.

  

* * *

 

Well, they’d certainly pulled out all the stops.

The hall was brilliant, all dark stone and bright gold accents, an expansive ceiling leaving you feeling positively minuscule. A raised platform along the far wall supported several large ornate chairs – thrones, you gathered – two of which were occupied. As you approached it became clear that one was the king, dark and imposing, looking rather bored. _You and me both, your majesty._ The other, a dwarrowdam, shared his coloring and his presence. Princess Dís. You’d heard of her. She, on the other hand, looked a bit annoyed. Probably because the king looked so bored. The princes were conspicuously missing. Dancing, you warranted.

You slowly took in the rest of the assemblage. There were tables upon tables of food and drink, dwarves, and several men, shockingly, of all shapes and sizes chattering and dancing away to very loud, very lively music. It was all exactly as you’d expected.

_Very, very boring._

You enjoyed a party as much as the next dwarf, but it was incredibly difficult to build enthusiasm for an event you very much did not want to attend. And whose purpose left you feeling unwillingly on-display and completely out-of-place.

Your mother, clinging to your father’s arm, nearly dragged him onto the dance floor. But not before pulling you aside and demanding that you dance at least once. With someone your age. Who was male. And preferably royal. You nodded curtly and smiled as she bounced away. If anything, this asinine trip was worth your parents’ happiness. They looked like newlyweds, smiling and giggling and embracing without a trace of shame. It was adorable. And a bit disgusting.

Well, what to do now? You could leave. But knowing your mother she’d just know somehow and berate you for the rest of her life and on from the grave. You could interact with the other guests, but you were more likely to insult someone, given your tendency toward sarcasm and your already unstable mood. You settled for weaving through the crowds toward the food and drink. Which was no easy task. The tables were surrounded on all sides by boisterous and already drunk dwarves, gorging themselves on ale and a wide selection of meats.

You wedged yourself in alongside several dwarves and filled a tankard to the brim. Well, you thought, bottoms up.

“–absolute waste of time,” a rather tall dwarf beside you spat. He was dressed in an impossible shade of pink that attacked your eyes from all angles.

“I completely agree,” his companion, a much shorter and stouter dwarrowdam sporting an intricately braided beard that fell to her clavicle replied. “Though I won’t leave.”

“Oh, me neither.”

“They probably just want to make an entrance.”

The tall dwarf nodded seriously, “That makes sense.”

You were never one to eavesdrop ( _that was more of your mother’s hobby_ ), but you couldn’t help it. There wasn’t much else to do.

“I just don’t want all of this primping go to waste!” the shorter dam stroked at her beard.

“Oh, it’s not! I saw that hatted dwarf looking at you!”

“…well, _he’s_ not a prince, is he?”

“No. But I saw him talking with the king, so he must be important!”

“With a hat like that he’s probably a servant.”

“Oh,” the tall dwarf looked a bit disheartened, “he seemed nice enough.”

You took a long drag of your ale, which was frankly delicious. At least that was one thing you could enjoy this evening. You turned about to refill your tankard and your foot swept beneath the table, sharply kicking into something. Something that went, “Ow!”

You raised an eyebrow, then bent to lift the tablecloth slightly. It was a foot. Attached to a leg. Attached to a dwarf.

“Hello?” you said, a bit confused.

“Shh!” the foot said.

“Are… are you alright?”

“Yes, now shh!”

“Alright,” you dropped the tablecloth and leaned against the table. This dwarf had the right idea. “Would you care for an ale?”

You waited.

“Are you speaking to me?” The voice was muffled and quiet, but distinctly male. If you hadn’t been listening for it, you wouldn’t have heard it over the din of the party.

“Yes.”

“Then yes. Yes, please.”

You set your tankard down and grabbed another, filling it as you would your own: as full as possible. Then casually placed it upon the floor and stood in front of it, shielding it completely with your skirt. You eased it under the table with your heel. Several moments passed.

“Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome,” you smiled. This was the kind of interaction you could handle. Anonymous, with someone likely completely insane. “Is there a reason you’re hiding?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes.”

“And that reason being?”

“You realize you probably look mad, talking to no one.”

“I’m not talking to no one, I’m talking to you.”

“…Would you care to join me?”

You snorted, “Join you _under the table?_ ”

“Yes?”

“…Yeah, alright.”

You casually reached up and undid your necklace, a gift from your mother, letting it fall to the floor. Then kicked it beneath the table.

“Oops!” you said quietly and bent to ‘retrieve your jewelry.’ Then slid beneath the table as gracefully as possible in your restrictive dress.

It was dark. Warm. Cozy. And the voices and sounds from the ball were muffled slightly. _Oh, this dwarf definitely had the right idea._ You sat upon the floor and looked about, trying to get your eyes to adjust.

“ _You’re actually here,_ ” the hiding dwarf whispered incredulously. He was far closer you than expected.

“Yes, well, you invited me.”

“I just didn’t think you would.”

“I could _leave_.”

“No! No, no. Stay. I’d like the company.”

“There’s plenty of company out there,” you shoved a thumb toward the party.

“Not the kind I want.”

“Ah. You prefer company who don’t mind ducking under a table.”

“Yes. Exactly. Though I didn’t expect you to be a dwarrowdam,” he said as he passed you your necklace.

“…I’m not sure what to say to that,” you chuckled and fiddled with the jewelry. If only you had pockets. You wrapped it around your wrist, clasping it into a makeshift bracelet.

“No! I mean, I didn’t think a lady would want to… I mean, the _dress_ and…”

“I know, I know. Don’t worry. I’m teasing.”

You sat in comfortable silence for a moment, listening to the party. It was incredible, this bubble of calm in an otherwise chaotic place.

“My mother would probably faint if she knew I was actually speaking to someone at this horrid affair,” you offered.

“Oh?”

“Yes. She wants me married as soon as possible. Frankly, I’d rather eat an axe.”

“That’s about how I feel.”

“And is your mother…?”

“Of a similar mind. Though for different reasons, I’m sure.”

“Dooooes she want grandchildren?”

“…Then they are indeed of the same mind.”

“Mothers. Whatever shall we do?”

“Hide under tables, apparently.”

He grinned at you and you giggled. Your eyes had finally begun to adjust and you looked over to your new friend. _Well_. Your mother would be absolutely delighted. He was very, _very_ handsome. His smile alone was breathtaking, but there were several other things attached to said smile. Such as lovely, kissable lips framed by a moustache braided into two strands and a delightful beard. His long blonde hair was bound back in several simple braids, showcasing his kindly and charming face. Broad and tanned and very much a warrior, he sat casually before you. He leaned back on his hands, his legs crossed in front of him.

You blushed a bit, realizing not only that you’d been staring but that you were very much alone with a male about your age. This sort of thing was unheard of. You shook off your mother’s chiding voice and extended a hand to the beautiful dwarf.

“Y/N. Very pleased to meet you.”

He looked at your hand for a moment and then a grin slowly spread across his face.

“Call me Fee,” he took your hand and shook it firmly.

“So! Tell me, Fee, did your mother send you off to the ball to meet the princes? To meet your _One_?” You said teasingly.

He laughed, bitterly, all in his chest, “At this point I don’t think she’s too concerned about that.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you pursed your lips.

“My brother escaped by the skin of his teeth. She doesn’t even know he’s not here. He’s off with his lady love.”

“But why would she want him _here_ if he–”

“It’s complicated. The woman he loves… my mother doesn’t exactly approve. Neither does my Uncle.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate.”

“Not much they can do. My brother is nothing if not determined. They’re actually already married. It happened years ago, in secret. My mother doesn’t know.”

“…Your family is far more dramatic than mine.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Though my mother did try to convince me to marry a 215 year old.”

“What.”

“ _Yes_.”

“That is utterly ridiculous.”

“That’s what I told her. But he’s rather important where I come from, and apparently that’s all that matters.”

“…Which is why you’re here.”

“No, I married him,” you said sarcastically, “Yes, it’s why I’m here. My mother hasn’t stopped talking about the princes for the last three months.”

“Ah.”

“Did you know they helped reclaim Erebor?” you said, mimicking your mother’s voice, “Oh, and they’re just so _handsome_ , Y/N! Just you wait! I’ve never seen them, but I’m sure they are!”

“Is that so?” Fee chuckled.

“You have absolutely no idea. I know more about them than I probably should. Or would care to.”

“Such as?”

“Goodness. Hm. Well, the youngest fights with a bow and arrow – bit odd, if you ask me,” you made a face and Fee snorted, “The elder wields two swords at once and is apparently just _gorgeous_.”

Fee chuckled and rubbed at the back of his neck, “’ _Gorgeous_ ,’ well. He certainly sounds like a fine match.”

“I suppose. Though who knows how many of these stories are manufactured to entice unassuming dwarrow?”

“You believe them to be lies?”

“Probably not outright, but some of the stories sound like they were pulled from _myth_. A skin changer who can transform into a massive bear? I mean, honestly.”

“And that whole business with the trolls?”

“Yes! _That_! Nonsense!”

“Though I heard that was the princes’ fault…”

“Really? I heard it was the hobbit.”

“Hm. So you haven’t met them yet?”

“No. They’re not even here, apparently. Not that I mind.”

“You don’t?”

“Do I seem like the type to pine away after strangers? I’m currently at a ball, _under a table._ ”

“Fair.”

“There are dwarrow out there fluffing up their beards and swooning over people they’ve never met. Apparently the fact that they’re royalty is enough. Oh! My prince! I simply cannot wait to wed though I know not of your life or your morals or even your face! But I am yours eternally! Oh!” you played at swooning, falling upon your back. Fee laughed and you pushed up on your elbows.

“Just so you know, that was quite attractive, what you just did.”

“Thanks,” you snorted and sat back up, “I suppose I wish I _could_ get excited about all this. But the prospect of being wed under these circumstances, of being bound to someone else forever in an instant is… well, terrifying.”

“You wouldn’t be marrying a Balrog.”

“I know that! But how could I possibly marry someone I don’t know?”

“It wouldn’t happen on the spot!” He laughed, “There’d probably be a courtship, you know, so you wouldn’t be _absolute_ strangers.”

“A very short courtship! Durin’s day, is oh, let’s see, a month away? Why all this blasted rush?”

“I’ve been asking the same question,” he rubbed at his neck again. “Though I suppose it has something to do with ‘producing an heir.’”

“Oh ick. Ick, ick, ick,” you made a disgusted face, “We’re breeding animals. Though at least you’d get a surrogate. _Lucky_.”

“I don’t expect it’s quite so vulgar,” he laughed. “Bred mostly of fear.”

“Poor word choice, ’ _bred_.’ Ick. And what do they have to be afraid of?”

“A lot of things. The princes nearly died during the war. The king isn’t exactly _young_. Lineages and all that.”

“True. But should their fear dictate my life? I feel less like a person and more like a trinket in a store window for the princes to glance over. Not that they would _ever_ choose me, but how could I possibly say no if they did? How could anyone out there?”

“You always have a choice. You could leave.”

“No, not really. My family isn’t particularly powerful. Or rich. Or _esteemed_. We’re good people, I think. But if there was a chance… I couldn’t really say no, no matter how I felt.”

“Hm,” he looked down at his hands, “I don’t think they’d be that hard hearted, to ignore your feelings.”

“Well, we don’t know them, do we? 'Royals can do whatever they want!’ as my mother would say,” you laughed, “My mother insists that love would grow. Eventually. But what if it didn’t? What if… No. Let’s speculate for a moment. Let’s say you and I were to get married. _Right now_.”

“…Okay,” he leaned on a hand and beamed at you.

“Now, we barely know each other. I certainly _like_ you. And you’re clearly fairly honorable.”

“Fairly. And you’re somewhat clever.”

“Somewhat. But let’s say that once married, you discover that I despise your favorite pastime and won’t tolerate it in the house.”

“You are so unfair, wife of mine. I will throw my knives whenever and wherever I wish!”

“ _Throwing knives?_ What kind of– No! I was in the middle of a thought. But you will tell me about the knives, yes?” you looked at him seriously and he nodded, looking incredibly amused, “Oh! Yes. _We’re married._ ”

“Yes, wife.”

“But perhaps I find that you have no sense of finances and spend all of our money on something silly. Like wooden figurines.”

“But I _must_ have them, Y/N. You simply don’t understand.“

“Or what if our appetites differ?”

“In what way?”

“Well, let’s say I want you at all times of night and day and you just… don’t?”

“Oh! In _that_ way,” he took a thoughtful sip from his tankard, “I would be agreeable to 'at all times.’ As long as you gave me a momentary rest.”

“There will be absolutely no resting. I must have you.”

“You are a _tyrant_ ,” he growled, “I love it.”

You laughed and swatted at him, “…Or what if there’s just… nothing? We like each other and nothing more. No passion, no love. And what if that 'like’ simply wears away to numb tolerance? Or even hatred? I don’t know if I could live like that.”

“I don’t believe that would be the case with us, wife of mine,” he smiled softly.

“But this is all speculation, you see?” you sputtered, feeling a bit warm, “And particularly marrying a _royal_. Could you imagine the pressure in addition to simply maintaining a relationship?”

“Yes,” he sighed, “There would probably be meetings with people you loathe, seas of paperwork and countless responsibilities. Schedules to keep. You’d likely have to memorize a bevy of mind-boggling rules and try to keep them all straight in your head. Because if you didn’t you might just accidentally _insult_ someone. And on top of all of that you’d have to maintain your composure and not let slip that you just want to run away lest you start another bloody _war_. It would be so easy to disappoint everyone. Much less the ones you love.”

His face had slowly shifted to something far more stoic and… tortured, while his hands had bunched into hard fists, his knuckles near white.

“Wow, you have thought about this,” you said, rather taken aback, “Do you work with the royals?”

“…You could say that,” he laughed but didn’t elaborate.

“I guess then… it’d be up to the prince and his love to support each other. As long as they actually _did_ love each other. Or at least care for one another.” Something clicked in your head and you suddenly felt horrible, “Oh, no wonder they’ve taken so long! Here I was, thinking they were these spoiled, judgmental _clods_ and I didn’t even think. If _I’m_ this terrified, they must be–”

“Quivering in their boots?” Fee laughed quietly, “I’m sure they’re quite aware that they’re unlikely to find _love_ at these parties. It must be difficult to trust anyone, since many are here simply out of interest in the title or some… fairy story fantasy. But as I said: _responsibilities_.”

“It’s incredible. You truly sound like you know them.”

“Believe me, I barely know myself!” he laughed, grinning at you, "I live in Erebor, so, y'know…”

“Oh! So, have you at least seen them?”

“Once or twice.”

“ _…And_?” you waited and he gave you a look, “My mother’s daily mantra has become ’ _handsome_ ,’ I can’t help but be curious!”

“They're… okay?” he shrugged, chuckling a bit, “I don’t know, I’m not the best judge.”

“ _Really_.”

“What?”

“Not the best judge? But you’re– I mean, you can’t possibly not know that you're–” you waved a hand, gesturing at well, _all of him._

“I’m afraid I have absolutely no idea what you mean,” he grinned.

“You’re, well, you’re _not_ hideous,” ah, and now you were blushing.

“A compliment of the highest degree! I am 'not hideous’!” Fee lifted his tankard in a toast, then looked at you from beneath his lashes, “You’re also very, _very_ 'not hideous.’”

You mumbled out a small thank you as he took a sip, “Ah, I should have grabbed mine…,” you eyed the drink enviously. He held the tankard out to you without hesitation, “Oh, no, that’s fine, I should've–”

“No, no, you saved a poor trapped dwarf from dehydration, you deserve it.”

“Well, if you insist,” you took the tankard and drank, then passed it back to Fee, blush running rampant, “I’m terribly embarrassed, here we are trying to _escape_ marriage and all I’ve done is talk about it.”

“Shall we talk about something else?”

“KNIVES. TELL ME. NOW.”

“Oh! Wow. You’re certainly excited!”

“Well, yes! Do you have any with you?”

“… _It’s a ball, Y/N._ ”

“But what if there was a sudden orc ambush?”

“In the middle of a party?”

“Sure. Why not?”

He looked at you and pursed his lips. Then laughed and produced a knife from his sleeve. You squealed.

“You _liar_!” you all but snatched it from his hands and began testing it for weight. It was _perfect_.

“It feels wrong not to have at least one with me.”

“Say no more. Must defend oneself while dancing,” you brought the blade near your face. The hilt was simple, efficient, lacking any of the ornate geometric detailing Dwarves were fond of. It was truly designed for accuracy and speed. “This is very well made.”

“Why, thank you.”

“ _You_ made this?”

“Yes?” he said, tentatively.

“I may kiss you.”

“…Okay,” he leaned in a bit, smiling. You leaned toward him in response, feeling playful, and his eyes widened. You got as close as you dared and watched his eyes dart to your lips. Then you flicked one of his mustache beads with a smirk and sat back.

“You _tease_ ,” he sighed, voice a bit rough.

“Yes. I live to tease you.”

“An interesting choice in trade.”

“I am truly a master.”

“Do you require an apprentice?”

“I’m afraid I don’t work with hopeless cases.”

He laughed loudly and you delighted in the way his eyes lit up. This dwarf. _This dwarf._

“It’s a surprise you’re not even courting someone,” you said without thinking.

He nodded sagely to you, “It’s all the wooden figurines.”

You threw your head back and laughed, then passed him back his blade. He quickly returned it to his sleeve.

“I’m surprised no one’s claimed you as well,” he said then narrowed his eyes playfully, “are you secretly a goblin?”

“Yes. You’ve found me out. I’m a goblin spy in disguise.”

“It’s a very well made disguise. This part is _particularly_ well done,” he gestured around your bust.

“Oh my goodness,” you wrapped an arm around your chest, “I don’t usually dress like this.”

“If we were to marry I think you’d have to reconsider that.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, I may insist upon it,” he grinned, “It would be in our vows. _'I, Y/N, hereby agree to wear nothing but marvelously tight and busty dresses while in my husband’s presence.’_ ”

“Then yours would have to be; _'I, Fee, hereby swear to Mahal to catch Y/N every time she faints from lack of air from those bloody dresses.’_ ”

“Done. Though it may be easier if you wore nothing at all,” he quirked an eyebrow and you wanted to kiss it.

“Oh my dear husband,” you sighed heavily, teasing, “I believe I haven’t a stitch to wear! Whatever shall I do?”

He released a shuddering breath and ran a hand through his hair. “ _By Durin_ … Should I find us somewhere a bit more private?”

Your mouth fell open with amused outrage, even as you slid toward him, “ _You cheeky bastard._ And here I thought you were such an honorable, polite lad!”

“It’s so nice to not have to be polite!” he sighed.

“Manners are _truly_ overrated.”

“Truly.”

“Courtesy? Bah!”

“Who needs it?”

“Courting? Marriage? What a farce!”

“I laugh in their faces! Aha ha ha!”

“Rules do not apply under _our_ table!” you said, bringing a fist down upon his thigh.

“Our table? Absolutely no rules,” he placed a hand over your fist and gently eased your palm down, spreading your fingers across the firm muscle. _Oh my_. You bit your lip. Ah, damn it all, you were sitting on the floor under a bloody table.

“No rules, _whatsoever_ ,” you gripped at his thigh and he inhaled sharply.

“Mahal, help me,” he groaned. You quickly decided it was your favorite sound.

“With what?” you whispered and leaned forward to catch his lips on yours. He started, then leaned into the kiss, bringing his hands up to cup your face. The kiss was gentle, slow and soft and yet you felt like you’d been set aflame. His tongue brushed along your lower lip and you were more than enthusiastic, opening your mouth and letting your own tongue join the dance.

Your hands slid up his thighs as you tried to get closer and he moaned heavily. He made _such_ delightful sounds. You shot up on your knees, desperate for more contact, and promptly bumped your head on the underside of the table. You winced and made a small pained sound against his lips. Then a disappointed one as he pulled away.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine, just need to…,” you pushed him and he fell onto his back, looking up at you with wild eyes. Then you all but flung yourself atop him and kissed him hard until you had to break away for breath. You eased up on your elbows so that you were nose to nose, “Bit more comfortable this way, don’t you think?”

_“Oh, I completely agree.”_

You grinned and dove back down, returning your lips to their rightful place. Upon his. Oh, but you suddenly found they also belonged along his jaw… and down his neck. You pulled your legs up to either side of him, straddling him, skirt fanned out over you both. Able to move more freely now, you traversed his skin with your lips. He writhed beneath you, producing a symphony of heated sounds as his hands roamed your body. You, in turn, melted to his touch. The way his large rough hands ran through your hair, holding you close, then up and down your thighs and sides. You paused, then decided one spot along his neck deserved a _bit_ more attention. You bit and sucked at the spot and he cursed, grasping your thighs roughly. His hips jolted up beneath you and _well_. You pulled away and looked down at him.

“Sir, I do believe you lied to me,” you sighed, shaking your head.

“ _What?_ ” his eyes widened. It was adorable.

“You have more than one knife on you.”

“…No, just the one,” he looked incredibly confused.

“Then what _exactly_ is that poking at my backside?” you grinned and leaned down to kiss him again, letting your hands run down his chest. He laughed against your mouth.

“I do apologize.”

“No need. Glad to know you’re enjoying yourself,” you set about kissing at his jaw.

“No, I’m having an absolutely terrible time. I need to hide beneath a second table.”

“A table under a table?”

“Yes. It’s _that_ horrible,” he grinned.

You laughed and he reached up to pull you down once more, the kiss growing more and more heated. Oh, the things you would do to him if you weren’t soundly in public. Safely hidden under a table, yes, but still in public. And at a _royal_ party at that, that by all accounts was still raging on around you. You really didn’t fancy getting caught mid-coitus by the king. He’d probably have you imprisoned for indecency.

You didn’t know exactly how long you were kissing, just that you were dizzy and heated and oh so happy. When you finally broke away, you were both breathing heavily, lips swollen from activity. And it was so quiet.

“Fee?”

“ _Yes, goddess?_ ”

“Oh, _I like that_. But, don’t you think it’s gotten a bit… quiet out there?”

“I haven’t heard anything but you for some time, but you’re right. Perhaps they’ve all gone?” he laughed then turned to cautiously lift the tablecloth from his place on the floor beneath you, “By gods… the hall is empty!”

“Really? How long were we…?”

“I have no idea. And I really don’t care.”

“Neither do I, but _wow_ ,” you dismounted and took a peek yourself.

“Shall we?” he raised an eyebrow and inclined his head toward the hall. You nodded, though exiting your little sanctuary was more painful than you expected. Who knows when you’d be alone with him again? You stood in the empty hall, now _far_ larger sans party.

“I’m going to miss our table.”

“We can always come back.”

“Can we?” you said a bit despondently. The ball was _over_. This night was _over_.

“Oh, _yes_. If you wish it, it will be,” his voice had gone heavy, but also very certain. You laughed.

“You sound as if you can just magic up this table whenever you want.”

“I can.”

“I didn’t know you were a wizard!” you said sarcastically and he chuckled.

“How long are you in Erebor?” he reached out to ease one of your loosened braids back into place, eyes soft.

“A week. My mother wants to _see the sights_. And my father wants to indulge her.”

“And you?”

“I want to see the forges.”

He laughed loudly and the sound carried though the empty room. “I was hoping you’d say something a bit more…,” he trailed off and moaned lightly. Another of your favorite sounds.

“Oh!” You attempted your most seductive look, “ _I want to see more of you._ ”

“ _Mahal_. Are you teasing me again, or…?”

“I truly, truly want to see more of you,” you took his hands.

“And I you,” he pecked your lips, “I can take you to see the forges, you know.”

“…Is that a euphemism? In which case, _yes_.”

He shivered and let his head fall back, “ _Oh Mahal, I adore you._ And no. But yes. If you wish it.”

“I might.”

“ _You will be the death of me._ ”

“I should hope not. I want you alive for what I’m thinking.”

He made an unintelligible, beautiful sound and squeezed your hands. “ _Please_.”

“Please, what?”

“I don’t know. Just… please be real. I do not wish to wake up and have imagined you.”

“Oh goodness, I don’t want to be imagined either! Don’t wake up, Fee! _I want to live!_ ”

He laughed, “Oh, my brother is going to _love_ you.”

“I don’t want your brother,” you said, pouting, “Though, if he’s as lovely as you…”

“Oh, you absolute–,” he kissed you soundly, pulling you against his chest. You quickly decided it was your favorite place in the world.

 

* * *

 

 Fee insisted on escorting you back to your rented quarters and the trip took about twice as long as it should have. Every dark corner felt like an opportunity and well, you seized them. And each other. When you finally reached your door it was near dawn.

“Meet me at the forges at midday,” he said seriously.

“Which forges?” you said playfully, letting your eyes drift downward. He moaned, gripping at your arms, “Yes, yes, don’t worry! I’ll be there!”

“Midday.”

“Midday, Fee,” you wound your arms around his neck and kissed him. Kissing upright was such a novelty after the night’s escapades that you kissed him an extra two times. Then three. You finally released him and leaned against your door to watch him walk away. Then he turned around and walked backwards into the darkness, looking back at you. He tripped but caught himself, grinning triumphantly at you.

“Goodnight! And good morning, my goddess!” he called and you laughed, blushing like mad.

He disappeared around a corner and you finally pushed into your rooms, which were thankfully unlocked, and all but collapsed into bed.

You would never look at a table the same way again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The forges and Fee, could there be any better combination? 
> 
> Well, probably. One that would involve a few more words that started with the letter 'F'. You'd just have to wait and see until you met up with your new... friend? Acquaintance? Lover? You weren't sure what you were prepared to call him, just that you wanted your lips on his and NOW. 
> 
>  
> 
> Originally on [tumblr ](http://immawriteyouthings.tumblr.com/post/134249524791/under-the-table-part-2)

You woke suddenly, fear gripping your chest like a vice. You’d overslept. You’d missed it. You’d missed _him_. 

You leapt from bed, only to curse as you fell to floor, sheets wrapped firmly about your ankle. Righting yourself, you soldiered on to burst into the sitting room. Your mother and father were taking tea, it appeared, and paused at your sudden, dramatic entrance. Your mother, always quicker to react, set down her cup with an audible _snap_ and turned to you. (Your father, on the other hand, mouth full of some sort of biscuit, merely turned.)

“Y/N! When did you get in last night? Your father and I waited–”

“WHAT TIME IS IT?” you hollered, untethered braids flying about your face.

“Almost noon, why–”

You cut her off with a screech and rushed back into your room, ruthlessly kicking off the sheet bound to your ankle. _There was still time_. Not much, but some, and if you hurried, you might still be able to catch him. Still clad in the oppressive dress from the night before, you began wrenching it from your body with clumsy, frantic fingers.

“Are you alright, dear?” your mother poked her head in, eyebrows knit. It was clear she was still upset about your tardiness, but motherly concern was beginning to win over.

“HELP!” you cried as you flailed about, “There is a beautiful, golden-haired lad waiting for me and I must look like a _goddess_!”

Any trace of concern gave way to rampant giddiness as a large, rather unsettling smile made it’s way onto her face. She clapped her hands in delight then made her way over to you, a clear bounce in her step, and began unlacing your dress. Once loose enough, you yanked it over your head and threw it carelessly against the far wall. You dove to your trunk in a panic, throwing fabric every which way as you riffled through your things for something to wear.

“The blue one, I think,” your mother said as she gathered the discarded dress and folded it neatly. It was very unlike her not to comment on your rough treatment of the expensive garment, but it was also unlike her to grin _quite_ this much. You grabbed the aforementioned blue dress and pulled it over your head without a second thought, smoothing out the skirt. Then looked up at your mother.

“What do you think?”

“Lovely. _Divine_ , even,” her eyes sparkled with humor and pride. Too frazzled to come up with a retort, you sat down at the vanity and began picking at what remained of your braids. Regardless of who was to blame, Fee’s passionate hands or your own wild sleep patterns, the tangled mess had begun to resemble a bird’s nest. Without prompting, your mother took up a spot behind you to help, skilled fingers making quick work of the sleep-knotted plaits. She gave a lingering glance to the necklace about your wrist but removed it without question. “His name?”

“Fee.”

“And his family?”

“Complicated.”

“His trade?”

“Smithing. Weaponry.” Though he really could claim kissing as his true craft. “He’s taking me to see the forges.”

“And you met him last night?”

“No, I met him while dining with elves an eon ago. Yes, I met him last night.” Ah, your tongue had returned, thank heavens. You’d definitely need it later.

“Did I see him?”

“…No.” He was under a table. With you. With his mouth on you.

“Is he handsome?”

“Ooooh ho ho, _yes_.” You instantly regretted your enthusiasm and cleared your throat, piping up quietly, “Yes. He is.”

Your mother laughed and set your hair, “There.”

Your hair fell about you simply, in your usual, day-to-day style. You often favored simple braids; styles that kept your hair out of your eyes and out of your work.

“No need for anything too complicated,” she said, patting your shoulder, “he’ll mess it up anyway, hm?”

“ _Mother_!”

“I saw you! All unkempt and wild! Oh, I remember those days…,” she said wistfully, a gentle hand still patting your shoulder, and you grimaced. She quickly caught herself and went stern, “There will be a chaperone?”

“Why would we need a– We’re not _courting_! There’s no time for that,” you rose from your seat (and out of her grasp) to tie up your dress, blatantly ignoring the wobble in your knees at the thought of Fee plaiting your hair in the age old Dwarrow custom. Your imagination flew and you could just see him, focused and careful, kissing along your neck as he secured each braid with beads stamped with his insignia. Beads that would declare to all that you were his and he, yours. You shook off the unrealistic romantic reverie with a start, shocked at your own childishness, in favor of picturing Fee’s large hands gripping your hair for other reasons entirely.

“Even more reason for a chaperone!” she barked as she took in your flushed face. “Times _are_ changing but I’d rather see you wed before you start producing dwarflings, thank you very much!”

“I’m not–”

“And truly dear,” her tone shifted yet again, softer but still very serious, “I’ve never seen you like this. I just _knew_ that someday you’d understand. This Fee is clearly very–”

“Mahal, mother. I _like_ him, it’s not like he’s my ‘One’. I’ve told you I don’t think I–”

Your mother made a small pained sound, her bottom lip quivering. Oh no. You’d gone and ’ _broken her heart,_ ’ again. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose, fighting the urge to mumble obscenities. Your mother, much to your cynical chagrin, was a 'romantic’. She had always spoken of finding your father, her 'One’, with such joy and reverence that you often wondered if she was under the impression that she’d met and married Durin himself. Your father was a kind and skilled dwarf, no question, but he was… _not_ Durin. And yet your mother continued to wax poetical, saying that she just _knew_ from the moment she met him that he was her other half, her heart suddenly full to bursting. All you knew about Fee was that you wanted to kiss his face. _A lot._

You quickly backtracked, “Mother, please, I–  I don’t know, he could be! Regardless, I’m not getting married in under a week,” you stared each other down for half a moment, your mother’s eyes painfully hopeful and very stern. How she managed both expressions at once was incredible and probably hurt some. Impressive though it was, there wasn’t time for this! Fee was waiting! With his face! _Unkissed_!

“Yes. There will be a chaperone,” you lied.

“Whom, exactly?”

“One of his family.”

“One of his _complicated_ family?” her lips pulled tight but there was a glimmer of humor in her eyes, “Go on then.”

“ _Oh, thank Mahal_. Goodbye, mother!” You raced from your rooms, past your bewildered, biscuit-covered father, and sprinted around a corner before either could invite themselves along. Mahal, that would stomp out the mood like a troll falling on a halfling. The last thing you needed were your parents tagging along and ruining… whatever it was you had with Fee. After a single night together. Your heart skipped. Could he–?

Oh, bugger all, your mother had wormed her way into your head and was positively dancing on the stupid, childish part of your brain. You shook it away and tried to focus on the winding staircases before you, weaving through crowds of dwarrow toward your destination and your… Fee. 

 

* * *

 

 

Erebor was a _maze_.

A large, ridiculous maze with nary a landmark in sight. At least none you recognized. How did anyone get _anywhere_ here? Every statue looked exactly the same to you! Grizzled warrior number one, grizzled warrior number two. Ah, and look there, grizzled warrior number three! Even the runes upon the walls seemed to dance before your eyes, making little to no sense in your anxious state. Did they spell things differently in Erebor, or did they all just have internal compasses? Or maps tattooed to their arms? Sacrificing your pride, you asked the nearest passing dwarf for directions, thanking them profusely as you whipped around another corner.

Then embarrassed yourself as you approached yet another dwarf for aid two turns later. And then another. You must have asked a good quarter of Erebor’s population (the last dwarf raising his eyebrows as he thrust an incredulous thumb behind him) before you found them.

_The forges._

Orange heat poured out of a grand archway that gave way to a great many stairs leading down. On any other day you would have rushed to the entrance, standing on tiptoe to breathe in the heady, iron scent and feel the all too familiar wash of heat as it set your heart beating madly. But your mind, body and heart were far too occupied with other, more Fee-shaped things. You looked around desperately, scanning the crowds, hoping you hadn’t missed him.

How would you ever find him again if you had? You could barely find the largest forges known to dwarrowdom, how would you _possibly_ find a single dwarf? You imagined him stalking off, disappointed or even insulted at your absence, when you’d simply overslept. Like a _child_. You contemplated screaming his name, knowing you’d probably end up looking like an absolute loony. Pacing, craning your neck and eventually jumping about to widen your view, you caved. _Ah, damn it all_. You drew in a large breath, prepared for many confused eyes to turn to the clearly insane dwarrowdam screaming in the middle of the corridor.

“My goddess,” the voice behind you sent delightful shivers down your spine. “You look lovely.”

You turned to find Fee, who, by some divine power, managed to look even more brilliant in the light of day. The glow of the forges cast a halo about his golden head and his soft smile had your stomach doing cartwheels. Now this was just _unfair_. How could anyone be allowed to be so striking? He was just another dwarf, another warrior, another smith; not unlike yourself or the many other dwarrow milling about. And yet you felt your eyes lingering over his hair, the carefully groomed cut of his beard, the silver patterned trim of his tunic laying fetchingly across the tanned skin of his neck and arms, the clear smirk emerging as he watched your eyes move up and down his form.

You had little time to admire him, however, as you realized he was not alone. A very large, very intimidating dwarf sporting a rather stony expression stood to his left. Realizing that you were still holding your breath, you released it casually (in what you hoped resembled a sigh), before speaking. 

“Hello, Fee. I didn’t keep you waiting did I?” you composed yourself to approach cautiously, rather than tackle him to floor.

“Not for long, no. _Though you did make a lovely little show of yourself, bouncing around like you did,_ ” he said softly, his eyes trailing down your neck to your bosom. “I _do_ miss the other dress.”

You slapped at him playfully. “Yes, well, I slept in it, so it probably doesn’t look quite as nice now.”

“Really?” He grinned and took a step closer, “I can only imagine.”

You smirked then nodded, reaching out to place a soft hand on his chest, “Oh _yes_ , you should have seen me. I was rumpled beyond all reason.”

“What I would have given…,” he sighed, leaning in closer, his hands slowly making their way to your waist.

“Took ages to tame my hair and I blame you entirely.”

“Oh? What can I do to atone for such a sin?”

_“Do it again.”_

A loud throat clearing and a heavy hand on Fee’s shoulder broke you out of your blatantly flirtatious conversation. Fee rolled his eyes and groaned in frustration, raising his hands to take a step back.

“Y/N, allow me to introduce our chaperone,” Fee grumbled and nodded to his companion, “Dwalin.”

“Oh! Hello!” You’d completely forgotten about the wall of dwarf behind Fee, more than a bit caught up in the moment. Dwalin grunted in greeting, taking his tattooed hand away to cross his arms tightly over his massive chest. At least your parents would be happy; this dwarf looked like he could break a bone with his _teeth_. 

Fee sighed, then leaned in to whisper, “I really wished to come alone, but it was out of my hands. Somehow my Uncle just knew and, well… _Dwalin_ ,” he gestured sharply to the hulking dwarf.

“I believe I know how he knew.” You reached out and tapped a clearly mouth shaped bruise on Fee’s neck. He started, surprised by the sudden ache, and covered your hand with his, grinning. You grinned back, then bit your lower lip as you pictured adding a few more marks to his neck. And chest. And wherever you damn well pleased. Perhaps you could sneak away from Dwalin and–

Your chaperone placed a large hand on either of your shoulders and pulled you apart. Fee shrugged and rubbed at his neck, looking apologetic and quite disappointed. Well, your plans to push Fee against a wall or onto the floor or into a convenient closet and ravish him silly were dashed. _For now._

“So. Shall we?” Fee gestured onward, then stuck out an arm for you, which you immediately took.

 

* * *

 

The forges were _incredible_. Awe-inspiring. So much more than any drawing or description you had ever seen or heard. Living here would be a dream. _(Living in Erebor, of course. Living in the forges would be terribly hot._ ) You could spend your entire week here, marveling over the architecture alone, which despite a few clearly new and patched areas, seemed to have been built to stand the test of time. And a dragon. 

But it was the craftspeople and their projects that drew the bulk of your attention. You nearly shrieked with excitement as you watched glorious things being made. Weapons and jewelry and tools and ah! You felt like you might faint. Which wouldn’t be a particularly _smart_ move, surrounded by so much smoldering metal. Instead, you clutched at Fee’s arm until he winced, then, unable to hold back, broke from him to speak with the craftspeople about their trade.

“Now, if I may, the hammer you’re using–”

“Lass, I’m a bit busy– Oh!” the artisan’s eyes widened suddenly, focused behind you. You glanced over your shoulder at Fee. He beamed at you, a slight pinkness to his cheeks. Whether from the heat of the room or otherwise, you didn’t really know, but you couldn’t help but smile back, blushing a bit yourself. ( _Dwalin, on the other hand, was not blushing in the slightest. He seemed a bit nauseated, though you didn’t notice)_. The artisan cleared their throat and continued, stumbling over their words, “Oh, I uh, hm. Yes. Well. The hammer. Well, you see, the temperatures we’re working with are far beyond your basic forge…”

You hardly noticed how easy it was to flit from station to station and how ready they all seemed to speak with you. You were an endless stream of questions and yet they all had near infinite patience, answering without more than a moment’s hesitation. Several even offered an impromptu lesson or two. You stood reverently before the ancient stone, wielding magnificent tools far beyond your means, barely believing that any of it was real. What a place, Erebor! Back home you would have been ignored, told off, or even physically attacked for getting in the way, much less touching someone else’s work, but _here_. Oh, everyone here was just so _nice_.

“ _Pinch me_ ,” you sighed, wiping the grime off your hands after a particularly involved lesson about setting gems in _mithril_ of all things. “I think I’m dream- _Oh!_ ” You jumped as your bum got a rather unanticipated nip. You turned just in time to hear a loud _smack_ , followed by Fee’s protests.

“ _Ow!_ She did tell me to, you great ponce.” Fee rubbed the side of his head, having just received a punishing smack. He met your eyes and grinned, “And I will gladly answer that call anytime you give it, goddess, chaperone or no.“

"I’ll keep that in mind the next time I question my reality,” you teased, then added quietly, “ _Or the next time I want my bum squeezed._ ”

“Ah, finally! A task truly worth my station,” he straightened his back and raised his gaze in pride. 

You nodded seriously to him, “I great burden, I know.”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” he peaked around you to glance at your backside, and you looked at him, mouth agape in amused outrage. He nearly growled, “ _I believe I can handle it_.”

You swatted him, blushing furiously as you broke down into giggles. Dwalin, still very much beside you both, gave a grunt of warning and Fee took a reluctant step back.

“Where do you work, Fee? I’d like to see where you made those knives,” you lifted up on your toes to glance about, then grinned over at him, “And steal all of your ideas.”

You held back adding that you wouldn’t mind seeing him covered in a fine sheen of sweat and grime, working away. Preferably shirtless. Entirely impractical and a bit dangerous, but it certainly conjured a _lovely_ image.

He laughed and seemed to catch the glint in your eyes, smirking, “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that particular knife was made a long time ago. In Ered Luin.”

“Oh. Well, _bugger_.” You didn’t question his time in the Blue Mountains, as so many of your people had scattered after the attack, even more returning to make Erebor their home after it was reclaimed. You and your family hadn’t done the same, content as you were in the Iron Hills. Though you had fought with your mother – and lost, to your embarrassment – when you expressed your desire to join Dain’s army. It was years ago, but it still left you feeling annoyed and unsatisfied. You’d missed _history_ , the chance to test your weapons and your mettle as a dwarf. But you were alive, which was at least _something_. “Have you been working on anything else?”

“Not as it were, no. I’ve been far too occupied with… family matters.”

“Ah, I know how that goes,” you nodded knowingly. Vivid memories of your mother having you fitted and re-fitted for various gowns and accouterments flashed before your eyes in a garish, multicolored blur. You’d been working on a rather complicated axe at the time. She, and the disgruntled tailor, hadn’t cared, no matter how much you voiced your frustration. The metal, as such, hadn’t tempered correctly and you’d had to start over completely. Again, your mother hadn’t been particularly sympathetic.

Fee guided you through the space, a light hand at your lower back as he directed your eyes around the massive room. You could hardly keep focused as your skin prickled against the heat of his palm, somehow far hotter than the fires around you.

“The restoration moved fairly swiftly through the forges. Having them available and working not only meant tools and other supplies could be made, but it did wonders for keeping us all alive. No matter how resilient we dwarves are, it’s no picnic trying to recover from battle wounds in an ice cold mountain,” he laughed quietly, a breath of a laugh, almost to himself, “And since it’s the bedrock of the kingdom, it only made sense to work from the ground up. Or the underground up, as it were. There are a few places untouched, the further reaches of the mines and other deep passageways that have yet to be cleared, but overall the progress is staggering.”

“I’ll say,” you managed, breathlessly, as his hand pressed into your back more decisively. He looked at you, his eyes glinting with mischief behind his calm expression, then the hand slid downward and over the rise of your bum. He clearly took his new duty _very_ seriously. Containing your smile, you bit your lip and took a breath as he gripped gently. You tried to keep the conversation going, if only to keep up the pretense of calm and keep your chaperone in the dark to Fee’s exploratory hand, “Hard to picture a dragon in here…”

Dwalin snorted and Fee gave him a sharp look, his hand falling from your backside. You felt rather like mourning the loss, eulogy and all.

“Believe me, if you’d seen it then, you would’ve had a pretty clear picture of what a dragon can do,” Fee looked around distantly, mischief all but evaporated. You reached out and took his hand without a second thought, squeezing softly. How could you be so stupid? So insensitive? All it took was a hand to your bum and you were spouting the most inappropriate topic known to dwarrowdom. You, as any other dwarf, were perfectly aware of the hardships and loss that faced your people after Smaug’s attack, even if you hadn’t faced many yourself. Fee squeezed back and graced you with a small smile, dimples just barely appearing on each cheek. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and pull him close, comfort whatever losses he’d faced, bring more smiles to that face. The impulse, you noticed, was new and a bit sentimental, but not entirely unwelcome.

“Aye, damned thing filled the entire bloody room,” Dwalin grumbled and you nearly jumped, shocked that the dwarf could actually speak. Up until now you’d been almost convinced that grunting was the extent of his vocabulary. Fee gave him yet another narrow look.

“You saw it? In Erebor? _In here_?” you turned your attention to the large dwarf, wide-eyed. Dwalin nodded sharply, but didn’t elaborate. However, by then something in your mind had started whirring. You’d heard the stories and something was clicking into place, “ _Then you must have–_ ”

“Dwalin was a part of the King’s company to regain the kingdom,” Fee offered quickly, heaving a big, exasperated sigh for whatever reason. Probably tired of introducing and explaining the celebrity, if this is who he could whip up to chaperone at a moment’s notice. You gaped at Fee, then at Dwalin, then at Fee again. Dwalin looked down and chuckled.

“ _Well_. I believe I need to introduce myself again,” you cleared your throat and bowed, deciding at the last second that curtsying was a bit too much, then extended a hand, “Y/N, at your service. It’s truly an honor, Master Dwalin.”

Dwalin took your hand and shook it firmly, a slightly pained but amused expression playing across his face before looking to Fee. Fee, however, was holding his own grinning face in a hand, watching the exchange through his fingers.

“And how exactly do you and Fee know each other?” you gave the pair searching looks.

“An old family friend,” Fee said with a shrug, far too casually for your liking.

“Your family gets stranger and stranger every time you speak of them, and you act like it’s nothing! _'Oh, I’m Fee, I’m only one dwarf removed from the bloody king, la de dah!_ ’” you played at Fee’s voice, lowering your register slightly, then continued, “I’m half convinced you’ll tell me you’re related to Durin himself, next.”

Dwalin gave out a barking laugh and you joined him, giggling at Fee’s bizarre expression – which fell somewhere between embarrassment and amusement, his lips pulled into a tight smile – and your own silliness.

“Yes, yes, you’re both hilarious. If you keep it up I won’t show you where the Black Arrow was forged,” Fee teased as your eyes widened, then added with a sharp turn to Dwalin, far more seriously, “And _you_ , don’t think I won’t make sure that you never even _see_ another biscuit. Ever again.”

Dwalin sobered instantly and you couldn’t help but laugh at how truly scandalized the large dwarf looked. Over _biscuits_. You could instantly see why Dwalin was a friend. There was a clear softness behind his stoicism, and you hoped that meant you could convince him to clarify some of the wild stories you’d heard about the quest. Mahal knows when you’d get an opportunity like this again. Fee grinned hugely at you both before leading you on. 

 

* * *

 

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ ,” you dared to kiss Fee’s cheek as you ascended the stairs. Dwalin didn’t stop you, to your surprise, so you kissed Fee again. And again. The day had quickly turned into a magnificent wash of molten metal and skill and _Fee_. Even if you never returned to Erebor, perish the thought, you knew you’d have this day to remember always.

“I didn’t expect you to be so excited!” Fee turned to catch one of your kisses as you passed through the entrance, but Dwalin put a large palm over his face, pulling him away. Lips nearly colliding with the back of Dwalin’s hand, you pouted at the large dwarf. He winked at you.

“Did you think I was lying? I’ve wanted to see Erebor’s forges for _ages_! It’s why I finally agreed to come along on the trip. You should see the work I’ve done at home. It’s nothing like _this_ , of course, but I wish I could show you. I’ve been testing axes, you see, trying to find a shape that accommodates both wielding and throwing without compromising strength or weight. It’ll be my masterpiece when I’m finished, I just need to be around metal again! Which reminds me: your _knives_. How did you get them to be so light?”

“I like her,” Dwalin rumbled.

“As do I,” Fee smiled, squeezing your arm. You flushed under the attention, ready to begin protesting when Fee’s face shifted, an eyebrow quirked in confusion, “Do… do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” But there it was, a steady, high-pitched noise coming from down the corridor. It grew in volume, approaching very fast. A small dwarf was tearing down the hall like his pants had caught aflame, screeching. The crowds parted around him, as one would if a dwarf had indeed caught fire and was running toward you. He fell once but scrambled back onto his feet, finally approaching your little group.

“Ori? Are… are you alright?” Fee released your arm to pat Ori on the back. The poor thing was red-faced, bracing himself on his knees, taking deep gasping breaths. You didn’t dare mention that the scarf about his neck had begun to unravel and was trailing behind him.

“Message! Uncle! Now!” Ori managed and waved a paper in Fee’s face. Fee sighed and took the paper to read. His face steadily grew more serious as his eyes drifted down the page, eyebrows knit and jaw set. Then he crumpled the paper into a ball, holding it within a tight fist, his eyes closing with finality.

“I have to go, Y/N.”

“What? Already?” But– _But the ravishing hadn’t happened yet!_

“I know. But it’s urgent. He wouldn’t have sent Ori if it wasn’t,” he said, passing Ori the crumpled page. Ori snatched it and immediately began smoothing it out against his chest, looking rather annoyed. Fee ran a hand through his hair and mumbled something that you couldn’t quite make out, though you were certain the words ’ _grumpy_ ’ and ’ _blasted_ ’ were involved. “Dwalin, will you escort Y/N back to her rooms?”

You could hardly process the words, mouth falling open slightly.

Dwalin nodded and Fee gestured to Ori to lead on, departing without another word. Dwalin looked between the two of you then shook his head and turned the opposite way down the corridor. You didn’t follow, but stood frozen, baffled and feeling utterly abandoned. Each step Fee took pulled at some unfamiliar part of you. It was a bit painful, like an aching muscle or poking at a nasty bruise. He hadn’t even said _goodbye_.

The _bastard_ **.**

The ache swiftly turned into fiery outrage, as though the bellows beneath your heart had sparked into action. How _dare_ he? How _dare_ he make you feel like this? How _dare_ he show you all of these lovely, wonderful things and just saunter away? How _dare_ he make you laugh and smile and make you want to do the same for him? But more than anything, how _dare_ he touch your bum and not let you do the same to him?! 

You watched Fee’s back for a moment, mouth opening to yell after him for being such a stupid, beautiful sod and leaving you standing there alone without so much as an handshake. Then Fee glanced back and you paused, mouth agape. He grinned and turned on a heel to sprint toward you, leaving Ori to continue on without him. You glanced back at Dwalin, far down the corridor (clearly he hadn’t noticed that you’d turned into an outraged statue). 

Fee reached you in a matter of moments, lifting you off the ground and into his arms as soon as he was near enough. You squeaked in surprise then delight as he pulled you in to kiss you deeply. You wound your hands into his hair without a second thought, forgetting entirely that you were in the middle of a rather busy corridor, and lost yourself in the kiss. Yes. Yes, yes, yes, _yes_. _This_ was what was supposed to happen today.

“Oi!” Dwalin barked from down the hall, his voice surprisingly distant, but you heard his heavy footfalls as he raced toward you both. Fee pulled away, grinning like mad. You grinned back, heart full to bursting.

“Clever, _clever_ boy. If you had taken one more step I would have had your _head_ ,” you gripped at his hair for emphasis, letting your voice go rough.

“ _I wouldn’t dare_. I’ll call on you soon. _Tonight_ , Mahal willing,” then he leaned in to growl, “ _Alone_ , Mahal willing.” 

He set you down and gave you one last peck before he made his escape. Ori, waiting at the other end of the hall, was bright red and looking away, alternating between nodding at the walls and examining his scarf _(he’d yet to notice that it was growing shorter by the second)_. Fee turned to run backward for a moment, shouting at Dwalin, “You’ll have to move faster than that, old friend! See you _very_ soon, my goddess!”

Dwalin flew past you and toward Fee, but stopped in defeat to laugh. “ _Cheeky bugger,_ ” he said under his breath, running a hand along his bald head, then smiled at you, “Come along then, lass.”

This time you turned without hesitation, almost a twirl, content and feeling a bit soft and fuzzy (though not _entirely_ satisfied). It took you a moment but you eventually noticed Dwalin looking down at you, the picture of amusement. You cleared your throat, attempting to steady your expression. You were not about to miss this opportunity.

“ _So_. Tell me about the quest.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have a moment, please leave a comment! I'd love to hear from you. :D
> 
> And if you want to chat, feel free to drop me a line on [ tumblr](http://immawriteyouthings.tumblr.com/) where I'm also immawriteyouthings.


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